Page 22 of Taint My Soul

I’m utterly alone in this fucking world. I’m an easy victim. The only one who can get picked apart. If my parents were alive, they wouldn’t have let this happen. They would have protected me from David, protected me from this.

Vincent smiles and puffs smoke from the cigar trapped between his fingers. His lips curls into a malicious smirk. He moves to the center of the living room and sits down on the couch. A coat drapes over his muscular frame, matching the black tailored suit. “You didn’t get me what I asked?” He chuckles, his deadly gaze resting on me.

“I only just joined the company. I was busy with a task he gave me.” My voice shakes. “Please give me a little more time. I promise I will deliver.”

Vincent closes the gap between us with the snap of a finger. His clenched fist collides with my cheek, bone cracking against bone. The impact sends my face sideways, and blood spills from my mouth. The coppery tinge of blood hangs in the air. Sharp, unpleasant, and overwhelming. “Time? Time?!” he barks, seething. “I don’t have time!” His voice goes neutral, gaze sliding over to Neo. “My lieutenant had to look for it himself.” He snarls. “You had a week to get me information, but you gave me nothing.”

“I’ll try harder.” The words choke out of me.

“I don’t need you to try harder. Get me something I can use to tear down that fucking family.” Something dark slips over his face, forming a dangerous mask. He regains his footing and retreats. “I have a different task for you today.”

“What is it, sir?”

“Neo will tell you what to do when the time comes.” He slides dark shades of glasses over his face and heads out of the apartment.

“Make sure your phone’s charged.” Neo winks as he follows his owner like the pet dog he is.

I exhale deeply and ball up my fists, a sudden anger overcoming me. But beneath the anger is fear… fear of losing my life. It cuts deep, like a saw grazing against hardwood, only to be met with resistance. My breath tears out of my lungs in short gasps, and I retreat until my back hits the wall. My body finally finds the anchorage it seeks, yet it’s not enough.

I still have to deal with them… with their threats.

Without knowing when he’ll walk into my home because he has access.

Because he’s controlling the cards, and I’m a pawn in the dangerous game he’s playing.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SAINT

The memory of that night still haunts me like a ghost.

He lingers in the fragment of my imagination. I still remember the dizzying trail of his scent. Citrus and jasmine. He smells divine. And I’m not a fool not to believe that my personal assistant and the man I met at Red Horn Club a week ago aren’t the same person.

Same height. Same eyes. Same build.

I never saw his face behind the mask.

I didn’t need to.

It’s the air of confidence he carries. Not just that, but the way he reads the room. The way he holds himself. His brilliance. I was utterly blown away when he entered my office yesterday to submit his report.

This was just supposed to be a way for me to relieve myself. To feed my sickness.

But something about this young man drives me crazy.

And those eyes are the prettiest brown eyes I have ever seen my whole life.

There’s something about them that pulls me in but also terrifies me.

All I can think of is him. In the office, where he’s just one call away from me. In the privacy of my own fucking home where he’s too far for me to reach.

I should have checked in at Red Horn Club at least twice last week, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave my home and return to that room. And I don’t know why.

I cannot let this sickness overcome me. I only give it doses of a cure to keep it locked behind bars.

I have to shut it down even though it wants someone.